


Release (All Your Breath Deep in My Lungs)

by ViolentAddict



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Backstory, Bodyguard!Adult!Henry, F/M, Frottage, Grinding, Henry is in his early 30's, Porn With Plot, Reader is in her 20's, Seemingly Unrequited Lust/Love, Telepath!Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentAddict/pseuds/ViolentAddict
Summary: Wherein Reader is lusting after her bodyguard Henry and her telepathic powers aren't helping things at all.Because we need more Henry Cavill/Reader imagines, people!





	1. I'm Not Finished (With you Yet)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, I don't really know what the hell I'm doing lol. I've just been reading a lot of reader imagines, but there was none that satisfied that itch, so I decided to write one myself, which is how these bad ideas always start lol.
> 
> I don't read a lot of m/f stories any more so it was kind of hard piecing this one together. I was inspired by Cherik and X-men and also plot bunnies. In the end, I'm satisfied with it. So here's some porn with plot that literally no one asked for. xD
> 
> Also Henry Cavill gets me inspired.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're falling in love with your bodyguard, Henry. It's not the smartest thing, sure, but who ever said you made good decisions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

This has to be the third time, at least. Or the fourth. The fifth? Or maybe you’re losing count because you’re not getting enough sleep. And why is that? Because of the jerk sleeping in the bed across from you. 

He’s the reason you wake up in the middle of the night with an ache between your legs. A throbbing you can’t control, desperate for touch, and a mind full of so many dirty thoughts it makes you dizzy. All because he can’t keep his thoughts to himself.

And sure, you’re not  _ prying _ . You aren’t. Prying would be bad. Prying would be against your self-imposed rules. Besides, it’s not like you could anyway. He’s the only person whose thoughts you can’t see clearly, like a TV with fuzzy channels. Though you can  _ feel _ them.  _ Boy _ , can you feel them.

It’s not even your fault. He’s projecting. Without even realizing it. 

You almost decide to wake him up, snap him out of his lust-ridden dream so you can get some sleep, but for whatever reason, you don’t. 

Instead, you choose to ignore it all and pray that morning gets here quick.

* * *

 

The next day is brutal. You wake up groggy and out of it, snapping at him and everyone you encounter. When he asks what’s wrong, you stop to give him a dark look before you head to the hotel’s bar, ready to drink ‘til you can’t see straight.

Of course the day just has to get worse. You try, like usual, to hook up with someone so you don’t have to go to bed and face the crushing loneliness, but tonight, you can’t shut your powers off. Everyone’s thoughts come blasting through your mind like stereo speakers. 

You listen and sift through each one, hoping to find that one interesting person, someone to break the cacophony, but to your dismay, they all sound the same. You know what you really want, who you really want to hear, but he’s chosen to give you your space. Maybe it’s for the best.

* * *

 

It happens again. His thoughts curl around you like a smoky plume of heat. The throbbing between your legs starts up again, impatient and desperate and you can’t take it anymore!  

You get out of bed and switch on the lamp on the nightstand. Reaching out to nudge him, you can’t help but be a little rough seeing as you’re literally going insane from sleep deprivation and it is all. His. Fault.

He blinks awake but there’s a steel grip around your wrist. A habit of his training and his time in the military. “Henry,” you mutter. “It’s me, Y/N. You can let go.”

It takes him a second but soon he’s releasing his grasp and you’re left feeling the burn from where his fingers touched your skin. He’s staring at you, waiting for an explanation as to why you’ve woken him up at this unforgiving hour.

“You were having a dream,” you say, staring at the floor, hoping he doesn’t ask for clarification. 

“Hmm.” He nods, understanding. “About you,” he finishes, moving to sit up in the bed. 

You blink, mouth agape, staring at him in shock. You didn’t expect him to be so bold about it. “Well, uh, yes.”

His azure eyes flash with mischief as they stare into yours, challenging you. “I thought you weren’t going to listen in on my thoughts.” He doesn’t look mad or bothered, instead, if you aren’t imagining it, he looks smug.

You chew your bottom lip, trying to piece the words together. “I wasn’t, but they were so loud. I couldn’t ignore them.”

“Did they keep you up?”

You nod. 

“I apologize,” he says, lips curved into a crooked smile. Then, “I’m crossing a boundary, aren’t I?”

You shrug. “You’re the one who created these stupid boundaries in the first place.” Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you say, “I can’t exactly fault you for dreaming. It doesn’t count.”

“But you’re angry with me? Why?”

“Because it’s not like you’re going to do anything about it!” It slips out; the truth you couldn’t even admit to yourself. “It’s not fair. Why tease me with promises of things you would never dare do?”

It’s his turn to be shocked. His eyes widen as the words that have left your mouth weigh heavily in the atmosphere. You’d revel in this moment of victory of catching him off guard if you weren’t busy being so embarrassed. 

“There are a lot of reasons why I-- _ we  _ can’t,” he whispers, looking away. “That, however, in no way, means I don’t want to.”

“Is this because of my father?” you ask, taking a seat on your bed.

“I promised him I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Now that we’re in the middle of some hick town, on the run, hiding from the government, that still doesn’t change anything. I would never take advantage of you like that.” His expression is grave.

You rake an irritated hand through your hair. “Then, I guess you’ll say we’ve arrived at an impasse.”

He nods. “Maybe we just need some more distance between us,” he suggests, silently pleading with you to understand. 

“Great idea,” you say with more bite than intended. Turning off the light and wrapping yourself up in your covers you tell him goodnight and once again begin your ritual of ignoring him.

You still end up not getting any sleep.

* * *

 

The next night, instead of waiting like a sitting duck for him to reject you again and leave you hot and bothered you decide to do something about your unwanted chastity. Despite his warnings not to cause attention to yourself, you leave for the nightclub a couple of blocks away from the hotel, wearing nothing but a tight black lace dress and your hot pink pumps.

You take a quick drink from the bartender before heading to the dancefloor to grind on the first boy who gives you an invitation. 

You’re losing yourself to the music and the night, ignoring the fact that this boy’s hands aren’t the ones you want on your body, when you open your eyes and glimpse Agent Masters questioning the bartender. 

He isn’t alone; there are others and you know they’re not here to party. Immediately, you detach yourself from the boy and sneak your way across the dancefloor to the back of the club. Your plan is to escape from the bathroom window and you’re close, you can see the illuminated symbol of the lady’s room in your line of sight, but a strong hand clasps over your mouth and pulls you into a dark corner of the club. Away from any witnesses.

You’re about to scream or full on attack the person when Henry’s voice rumbles close to your ear. “Shh, Y/N, it’s me. Don’t make a sound.”

Your body relaxes with relief. It was so incredibly stupid of you to go out alone, but thank goodness he’s here. 

“I’m going to get us out of here. Alive, preferably,” he chuckles and his warm breath heats your skin from beneath the thin lace of your dress. You shiver and close your eyes, trying to focus on not screwing up and getting the both of you killed.

You can hear them, the government agents searching for both of you in the crowded club. One gets close to the corner, but thankfully, doesn’t notice the two of you. 

It seems like an eternity, but eventually, Henry removes his hand from your mouth. You take in a huge gulp of breath, but you can sense it, he’s having entirely different thoughts that aren’t helpful to the situation.

You’re pressed flush against him, so close you can feel him move so his arousal isn’t digging hard against your ass. It’s not helping things; the more he moves and fidgets the more the blood feels like its leaving your head to pool between your thighs.

You want to tell him to cut it out, but there are enemies around still and speaking would be a very, very stupid thing to do. So you bite your lip and swallow the words down.

And though this isn’t the right time, the dampness in your panties is becoming more and more noticeable and so is the insistent throbbing. Without realizing what you’re doing, you lean back, pressing him against the wall and trapping his dick with your warm body. 

He grunts and his hands grip your hips in an attempt to stop you. If you could hear his thoughts you know he’d probably tell you something like “This isn’t the time or the place.” But you can’t help it, it’s like you’re possessed.

You grind back again, feeling his cock press against the seam of your clothed ass. You want to groan because  _ god _ does this feel good. He’s hot and hard and it’s driving you crazy. Your breathing speeds up as he suddenly rocks forward, your hips still in his steel grip so you’re the one who’s trapped while he takes control. He bends you slightly while one hand threads through your hair, locking you in place. You can feel it: his triumph. “Is this what you wanted?” is what he communicates to you. “My cooperation?”

A soft whimper falls from your lips and he takes that as permission to continue. With one hand on your waist and the other in your hair he thrusts against you while you, on instinct, arch into it, begging him with your body what your mouth can’t say. 

“I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” he promises through the mental connection.

He’s huge, the right size to break you apart from the inside so he can stitch you back together. There’s nothing more you want than to be used by him. To be the one he comes to for pleasure like a wasted whore. 

You can feel it coming; you’re nearing the edge of your climax. Whispering his name over and over in your head, you pray to him, to keep going, to never stop, to be yours.

And then you’re a writhing, twitching mess in his arms. Your climax is so strong you feel the moisture dripping down your thighs. It makes you feel so dirty, but so good.

“Satisfied?” he asks, cocky son of a bitch that he is.

You simply shake your head, too tired to keep up the mental connection.  “Never.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to read chapter 2 ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	2. It's Not a Bad Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe falling in love with Henry isn't such a bad thing. After all, you've done worse. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so somewhere along the way, I decided I wanted Reader to be at least 20/21. So for now, consider her aged up lol. 
> 
> Chapter inspiration: Not a Bad Thing by Justin Timberlake.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for reading! I wanted to add another chapter because I enjoyed writing it so much and you guys asked for more. 
> 
> I meant for this to be smutty, but instead it turned fluffy. *shrugs*
> 
> I'm having probably the worst week of my life, and so to get through it, I'm writing because it helps me cope.
> 
> Without further ado, onto the chapter. Do enjoy.

“ Every single one of your goons are down. They’re pretty mindfucked, so I wouldn’t send them on any more missions if I were you. At least, not for now.” The venom oozes from your voice straight into the speaker of the payphone you hold. Though you usually aim to keep your composure, you know the person on the other end doesn’t deserve a single ounce of your cordiality. “This is a fight you’re going to lose. So send others if you like, send them all. We’ll be ready, Mother.”

You can practically  _ hear  _ the smirk in her voice. “Oh darling, you really think you’re winning? Think about it: you’re a wanted girl. If it wasn’t for those demon traits you call your powers and that mindless puppet of a bodyguard, you wouldn’t have gotten this far.”

The anger pulses through your blood, hot enough to sear your veins, and you bite back a curse. “You don’t know anything about Henry or me. You’re in no position to think low of someone else when you’re going to such great lengths to kill your own daughter. The agents must think very highly of you. ”

You can even see her smug, arrogant face. “I’m only trying to protect the future of this world. We can’t have mutants walking around and the fact that I’m willing to sacrifice my own daughter, just shows the true depth of my passion. They’re actually quite impressed.” When you don’t say anything because your mind’s too preoccupied trying to comprehend her insanity, she continues. “Just come back. Give up, honey. Running and hiding isn’t going to work forever.”

Your grip on the handle of the phone gets tighter. Outside in your latest stolen car, you see Henry, sitting in the front seat, staring ahead of him at the wide, seemingly endless strip of open road and you allow yourself to think briefly, about giving up. Of having a life where you aren’t constantly living in danger’s shadow.  _ Don’t let her get to you _ , your mind urges, and you close your eyes and count to three, just to gain some control. 

“I know,  _ Mother _ ,” you say it like an insult, “That you won’t stop until I’m dead. Really, I’m flattered. You’re free to do your worst, after all, I find it hilarious that your toughest, most evasive assignment is a twenty year old girl and her bodyguard.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end and you revel in your victory of leaving her speechless.  _ Click!  _ You put the phone back in its cradle and head to the car.

Henry is watching you with curious eyes. “I take it this talk with your mom went well?”

You shrug. “The usual death threats weren’t doing much today. I guess she’s losing her spark.”

He grins at you, and you hazard a smile, before he starts the car up again and it gently hums to life. While the vehicle pulls off the curb, you fiddle with the radio attempting to find a station to accompany the ride.

As a generic pop song starts playing, one you’ve undeniably heard before, you turn up the volume, remembering that you like this singer, or at least, you did before the total shit storm that is your life now, happened. 

You’re nodding your head to the beat, watching the scenery whizz by. It’s nothing but fields and fields of corn and wheat, and you don’t know what god forsaken state this is, but it’s undeniably beautiful.

At some point when the station switches to another song, one Henry knows and begins to sing along to, you lean your head back in the passenger seat and allow yourself to relax, to let your guard down. 

When you next open your eyes, the car is no longer moving and the sun is gone, replaced with a night with limited stars. Henry’s tired, cobalt eyes meet yours as he moves around to open the passenger door for you. “Y/N, I found us a motel for the night,” he explains.

You nod your head, which feels heavy. Your mind’s too groggy to focus much, but luckily Henry’s there. He holds your hand tight and leads you through the motel, which isn’t exactly a five star joint, but you’ve seen worse. He doesn’t let go until you’ve arrived to your respective room. 

“I’ll be close. Don’t hesitate to signal me, if anything happens.” He doesn’t leave until you sluggishly nod your head, indicating that you understand, and then he’s gone and you’re left in the deafening silence of the room.  

Without hesitation you take a shower and get into bed where you fall asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

* * *

 

The next morning, you both decide to eat breakfast at a nearby diner. As you’re biting into your eggs and Henry’s taking a sip of his coffee while idly looking at the window at the limitless, extensive expanse of corn and wheat fields that surround this nameless town, is when you realize it. The way he avoids eye contact with you for too long, or the way he rarely touches you now, not to mention the fact that he barely says more than two words to you: things are getting progressively more awkward between you two. 

You haven’t talked about what happened at the club, but in truth, you haven’t had the time. The lives you lead don’t exactly leave much room for pause. 

That night, he had clammed up and was as impenetrable as a brick wall, turning into a total stranger when you returned to your room. You don’t want to do anything to trigger that response in him again, but you also don’t want to pretend like that moment in the club never happened.

“You’re lost in thought,” he mentions casually, still staring out of the window.

You grimace as you’re plucked back to reality. “Yeah, just wondering what the game plan is,” you attempt to lie, but the words come out awkward, unnatural.

His brow furrows. “What were you really thinking about?” he asks, the corner of his lips quirking up into a crooked smile and in that moment, you realize you have no hope of denying him anything. 

You’re about to say something else when a couple walks in, looking hurried and harried, with their two kids. The son runs to find a table while the worried mom chases after him, but the father lingers with his young daughter, patiently waiting as she proudly points out every color she spots in the diner. 

You don’t think much of it until your eyes catch Henry watching the family with sad eyes.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a family?” he asks, pinning you with a weighted stare. It occurs to you then that this is the first time in weeks he’s finally giving you his full attention. 

You shrug. “Yeah, of course. But then I, sort of, lost the idea when I realized I will never have a normal life,” you mutter and try to swallow the bitterness down with a hearty sip of hot chocolate.

His lips pull down into a frown and his gaze turns distant, as if he’s gone to a place that is way too far for you to reach. An uncomfortable, prickling silence fills the air between you two and you get back to your breakfast. 

You attempt, vainly, to eat more, but there’s a weight in your stomach that seems to get heavier as you try, so you give up. Henry notices, assuming you’re full and goes to pay the check.

The car ride back to the motel is laden with that awkward, bristly silence. You think of switching on the radio, but you’ve already heard the same songs over and over and by this point you’re pretty sure you’ll tear your own skin off if you hear another synthetic-drumbeat heavy pop song. The alternatives, which are country and hip-hop, aren’t much more appealing.

So you sit in the silence, until it becomes too much and you nearly scream, “Can we make a pit stop?”

You get out of the car the minute he pulls up to a gas station and you get two Red Bulls. As you sip yours, you aim to think of other things besides the fact that for once your mind is a quiet place and you can’t stand it.

When you return to the car, Henry watches you cautiously and you know he wants to know what’s going on with you, but you don’t even know yourself so you turn the radio all the way up and sing along to another insipid Maroon 5 song.

Your final night at the motel is spent wrapped up in warm love and secure affection where nothing harmful can touch you. You feel safe and wanted and loved, but when you wake up and realize it was simply a dream, you can’t stop the tears from falling. 

You march straight to Henry’s room and knock obnoxiously loud intending to yell at him for projecting again. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming down from military mode as he soon as he sees your tear streaked face.

“You should have just walked away,” you mumble through your tears. It’s not the words you planned to say, but they will have to do.

Henry’s brow furrows and he reaches in to cup your cheek. The gesture is so tender and gentle you gasp, lost in the warmth of his large hands.  _ If only it could be like this. . .  _

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, love,” he tells you, breaking you out of your reverie.

You shake your head and try to remember what you were saying. “You should never have taken me on as a client. You should have told my father no.”

He still looks confused, so you sigh, exasperatedly and say, “Because I’m in love with you and that is only going to make us more doomed, you idiot.”

He pulls you in for a hug then and presses his lips to your hair, whispering sweet words to you, as you mumble I’m sorry’s into the soft material of his shirt. 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, pulling back so you have nowhere else to look but into the soft, cerulean ocean of his eyes. “Where you go, I go, okay? Don’t worry about me, I signed up for this. Living on the run may not be how I pictured my life to go, but it is what it is.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve it,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “Neither do you, but we’re here and we’re alive and I fully intend for us to stay that way.”

A smile forms on your lips. “I know how I feel about you, and I don’t regret it. I just wish circumstances were different.” You search his gaze for signs he’s going to freeze you out again.

He pauses and for a moment you think he’s going to shut the door in your face, but to your surprise, he leans down and and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. For a moment, you’re surrounded by his alluring smell and the comfort of his body heat. “You don’t live with many regrets, that much I do know,” is all you hear him say. “It’s commendable really, how fearless you are. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I’m not normal,” you murmur.

As he places a distracting kiss to your cheek, he whispers. “That’s not exactly a bad thing.”

You laugh at that and move out of his reach. An expression of surprise crosses his face and as you head back to your room, you say, feeling high on the dopamine rush that comes with his touch, “You want to protect me from everything, but there’s one thing you can’t protect me from no matter how hard you try.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” He raises an eyebrow, his smirk is impish as he watches you sway on your feet like a punch drunk prom date.

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Like this?
> 
> Feel free to check out more of my stories!
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you have any comments/questions/concerns/suggestions, please leave me a comment below!
> 
> <3 you all!


End file.
